


Berceuse

by Catja



Series: Kink Meme [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canonical Age Difference, F/M, Kink Meme, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 02:41:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10755060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catja/pseuds/Catja
Summary: Clarke can't sleep; Bellamy helps her out.





	Berceuse

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed, unedited, feel free to let me know if there are any typos.
> 
> Prompt: Clarke is his little sisters best friend. Bellamy gives her her first orgasm, now she's addicted.

Clarke couldn't sleep. Octavia was in bed next to her, snoring softly away, but even after a decade of sleepovers, since Clarke met Octavia on the first day of first grade, she wasn't used to her best friend's mattress (too firm), or the temperature of the room (too warm), or the faint sounds of Bellamy playing video games down the hall in the living room.

She checked the time on her phone, charging next to her on the windowsill: just after one, which means she's been lying here for an hour and a half. And if Clarke doesn't do any thing about it, she'll probably be lying here awake for the next ninety minutes.

Unless someone _else_ does something to help her fall asleep.

Clarke carefully gets out of bed. Octavia could sleep through the apocalypse, but Clarke doesn't want to risk her waking up. She doesn't even bother to put anything on, just slips out the door in her dad's old t-shirt and her panties. Aurora's working third shift again tonight so there's no reason to cover up.

Eight feet down the hall, Bellamy's sitting in an easy chair, headphones on, playing some kind of violent war game. He looks up when Clarke comes in, though, and pushes his headset around his neck.

"I can't sleep," Clarke admits, soft, still hovering in the doorway. "Would you help me, please, Bellamy?"

Bellamy just stares at her for a long moment, then hits a button on his headset."I thought we agreed this wouldn't happen again."

Clarke just looks at him, letting her eyes go wide and pleading. She doesn't _quite_ pout, but it's close.

Bellamy caves, of course, visibly deflating a little. He's tried so hard to be good, but Clarke never lets him. "Fine. Five minutes." He jerks his head toward the couch and adds, "Go ahead and sit."

Clarke curls up in the corner of the couch closest to Bellamy, hugging a pillow to her chest. It's one of those gloriously squishy couches, the kind her mother would only allow in the basement. Clarke would probably have an easier time falling asleep here than in Octavia's bed.

She almost drifts off, watching Bellamy, but anticipation keep her just alert enough. She so rarely gets a chance to see him like this: relaxed, enjoying his one indulgence. His dark curls are mess, from his fingers running through them all day, and his glasses slip low on his face, eyes intent on his screen, gray tank exposing his broad shoulders and muscular arms for her appreciation. When Clarke sees him during the day, she has to try to pretend she's not looking. It's nice now, being able to stare openly.

It's probably closer to fifteen minutes when Bellamy finally bids Miller goodnight and turns off the tv.

"Did you at least try, this time?" He stays in his chair, turning to look at her.

"I did, I swear," Clarke says. "The movie ended, like, two hours ago, and we got right in bed."

Bellamy glances at the clock. "Octavia voluntarily went to bed before midnight?"

Clarke shrugs. "There's some thing she wants to go to tomorrow, she didn't say what."

"Typical." Bellamy stands up, but doesn't come any closer, just looks down at her. "Clarke-"

"Bellamy."

"We said this wasn't gonna happen again."

"No, _you_ said this wasn't gonna happen again." Clarke adjusts the pillow so it's sitting right below her breasts, pushing them up and making it very obvious that she is both turned on and not wearing a bra. Bellamy can't help but glance down. "Please, Bell, I can't sleep, and you _know_ the easiest way to fall asleep is if I come, and I've _tried_ , I can't do it myself."

"Yeah, I know." He flops on the other end of the couch, legs up next to her. "Come here, Princess, and let me help you."

* * *

The first time, it happened like this:

Sometime after midnight, Clarke went to the Blake's kitchen for a glass of water and hops up to sit on the counter to drink it, like she and Octavia have done for years.

Bellamy comes home, late, after his shift at the bar, and stops short at the sight of his sister's best friend in nothing but an oversized t-shirt that barely reaches to her thighs, fucking around on her phone and sipping at a glass of water.

"Can't sleep, Princess?" Bellamy asks, leaning up against the counter opposite her. When Clarke just shakes her head, he goes on. "Have you tried orgasms?" he asks, smirking at her. "Works every time."

Clarke blushes. "No, I-"

"You don't want to when you're here?"

"No, I've never been able to-"

Bellamy's eyes go wide. "Never? That sucks. You should try again sometime. It's pretty relaxing, at least after."

Normally, Clarke would laugh at Bellamy's constant advice-giving, his inescapable big-brother instincts. But now, all she can do is blurt out, "Would you show me how?"

And it takes him a minute, but he comes over next to Clarke, slips one hand up her thigh and pets at her, just through her panties at first. He nudges her legs apart, once she starts getting a little wet, and slips one finger inside her, just enough to give her something to clench around, not enough to tear. Then he's rubbing tight circles on her clit, slow and soft at first, but soon hard and almost rough, until she's coming apart, her whimpers muffled against his neck.

He only gives her a minute to recover, then kisses her forehead. "Gonna be able to sleep now?"

Clarke nods, already feeling her eyes droop. Her whole body is relaxed and loose.

He helps her off the counter and sends her back to bed. Then he goes back to his own bedroom and jerks himself off, hard and fast, thinking of Clarke's pretty pink nipples barely showing through her shirt, the way she whined and begged, not even knowing what to say, when she got close. He's got his fingers in his mouth as he explodes, sucking at the wetness Clarke left on him.

Bellamy falls asleep quickly himself. He assumes that that's the end of it, that now that Clarke's had one orgasm, she'll be able to do it for herself, and tonight was his only chance to taste her, which is _fine_.

But that's not the end.

It doesn't happen every sleepover, but more often than not, Clarke comes to him, shy but bossy, begging for help sleeping. He knows he shouldn't, of course he shouldn't: she's five years younger than him, his sister's best friend, still in high school, is probably lying about not being able to sleep. But she's also the sexiest, sweetest-tasting girl he's ever seen, and if she's lying it's because she wants _him_ to get her off, and there's something so satisfying about being the only one who can make Clarke Griffin come.

So Bellamy sets some rules and actually manages to get Clarke to go along with them, and every time, right before he sends her to bed, he tells her it's not going to happen again.

It's not his fault she keeps coming back.

* * *

_"Come here, Princess, and let me help you."_

Clarke crawls across the couch to settle in his lap, back against his chest, legs parted for him. He tugs her shirt up to cup her breast, thumbing at her nipple, while his other hand finds her pussy.

"Fuck, you're so wet already, baby." Bellamy strokes lightly at her labia, spreading her wetness around, just teasing her.

"You made me wait so long, Bellamy," Clarke says. "I was thinking about this, how good your hands feel." She can feel his dick hard against her ass, and she presses back against him.

Bellamy groans, rewarding her with his thumb against her clit, just for a moment. "You should have started without me, got your pretty cunt ready for my fingers."

"Next time," Clarke says, and to her relief Bellamy doesn't argue, just lets his hand go rougher on her breast, scratching lightly at the sensitive skin and tugging at her nipple.

"You want it fast or slow tonight, baby?" He's still just teasing her, just barely sliding a finger tip inside her, brushing against the side of her clit. Her panties are soaked, but they stay on anyway.

Clarke turns her face up toward his. "Fast, please, I need it so badly, Bellamy."

He doesn't kiss her; he never has. Clarke longs for it, is desperate to know how his mouth would feel on hers, even more than she wants him to fuck her, but Bellamy's drawn the lines quite clearly, and it's pushing the boundaries enough to even have _this_.

"I know you do, Princess, I'm gonna take care of you."

Finally he starts paying attention to her throbbing clit, pinching it lightly then petting it better, alternating soft strokes with tight circles, not giving her what she _needs_ , fast and consistent to push her over the edge. Clarke's panting, one hand joining his on her breast, the other back around his neck, fingers tangled in his hair.

"Please, Bellamy," she begs, "please let me come."

He gives her just what she needs, familiar with her after so many times, and she shatters in his arms, muffling her gasps against his shoulder, her whole body trembling.

But this time, Clarke doesn't get all relaxed and sleepy after.

"Bellamy, it wasn't enough," Clarke says, her eyes tearing up in frustration. "I need more, please, it wasn't-"

"Shh, I know, I've got you, Princess," he says, and while she's still recovering, he slips out from under her and settles himself on the floor. "You trust me?"

"Uh-huh."

Bellamy carefully pulls her panties off, leaving them hooked around one ankle. Through the thick haze of arousal and frustration, Clarke realizes that he's never done this before, never taken anything off.

"Fuck, Clarke, you're so pretty," he says, fingers exploring her, now that he can see. "What a pretty pussy you have."

" _Please,_ Bellamy."

He spreads her open with his thumbs, fingers gripping her hips, and says, "You're going to taste delicious."

Clarke jerks at the first touch of his tongue to her clit, barely held in place by his hands. He flicks at her a few times, then goes lower, kissing and licking and sucking, and Clarke's lost to a flood of sensation. Five minutes ago, Clarke would have said that nothing could be better than Bellamy's fingers, but his mouth... well. Clarke's going to make sure this happens again.

Bellamy pulls back just enough to tell Clarke to "Play with your tits for me," and then he's giving her just what she needs, sucking on her clit.

When she comes, Clarke has to cover her face with a pillow to silence her screams. Bellamy eases her down, kissing her cunt, licking softly at her clit, pulling away much too soon. Clarke whines at the loss of contact, but she's finally reached the quiet sleepy place she needs.

Bellamy helps her up, bending down to pull her underwear back up, then leading her back down the hall to Octavia's door.

"Goodnight, Princess," he says, voice low.

Clarke leans up to press a kiss against his lips. It would be chaste, if she didn't come back licking her taste from her lips. "Thanks, Bell," she says, then slips into the bedroom, almost collapsing into bed.

She falls asleep to the sound of Bellamy's soft grunts through the shared wall. Maybe next time, she thinks as she drifts off, he'll let her make him feel good too.


End file.
